The Family Origin

Chapter Twenty-Six: MAISIE POV

 My arm burned and throbbed as I laid on the bed with a mind heavy with hundreds of questions. I changed out of the bloody clothes and washed my skin while Joseph and Miles went outside to bury Clara's body. I refused to look out the bedroom window while they were outside. It was unlikely I would see them digging a grave, but I did not want to risk it. The sound of Clara's painful screaming and the image of her covered in blood was a haunting memory. She tried to protect me, and I was unable to save her life.

Clara died because of me. I tried pulling off my wedding ring, but it remained stuck on my swollen finger. I would have given it to him the ring. There must have been a way to get it off my finger. He just needed to give me a moment to think.

I kept the oil lamp lit while I waited for Miles to return. Being stuck in the darkness made the horrific scene replay in my head in even more vivid detail. My heart pounded each time I recalled being on the stranger's back and trying to get him off Clara. My anxiety caused the small flutters from my baby to return. I rubbed my stomach, hoping to calm my daughter. Was she also feeling all of this stress?

I could hear the floorboards creaking before Miles came into the room. I pushed myself up so I was sitting on the edge. His clothes were splattered with dirt. He unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it on the floor. The key dangled around his neck. He let out a deep breath as he ran his fingers through his hair, but my eyes did not leave the key. Why would he wear the key if the door had always been unlocked?

"How long?" I asked.

He looked up at me. The lamp cast shadows across his face, but I could see him raise his brow. He did not ask for clarification, so I cleared my throat before speaking.

"How long had the door unlocked?" I asked.

Miles's muscles grew tenser. He pushed back his shoulders and appeared broader but did not answer my question.

"How come you never told me it was unlocked?" I asked.

He stared at me, and his unreadable expression had returned. Since I had been pregnant, small amounts of emotions would show on his face. I was starting to somewhat understand what was happening inside his head, but now he returned to an expression of stone.

"Why was it unlocked?" I asked.

"Maisie." His voice had an edge to it, like he was warning me to be quiet. "You need to stop."

"Was it always going to be unlocked?" I asked. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

"Maisie!" He raised his voice. I flinched and cradled my stomach as the small flutters returned. "No more questions."

"Miles-" I started.

He held up his hand to silence me, and stopped speaking. I bit down hard on my lip to suppress the many questions burning my tongue.

"No more," Miles said. "I don't want to hear another question. We are doing what we can to keep you safe. You need to trust us."

I was tempted to ask another question about why the unlocked door would be considered safe, but I stayed silent. It would only anger Miles. He was already stressed enough.

I closed my eyes as I remembered Miles on top of the stranger. His attack started the same way he hurt Silas months ago. He had swung his fists, and there was the crunch of bones. While in shock, I watched him pick up the stranger's knife and stab him. It was not one single attack. He stabbed the stranger over and over as if he was motivated by a blinding rage.

How could Miles murder someone with such ease? He attacked the stranger without any questions or hesitations. Had he killed a man before?

I was unable to ask any of these questions. Miles was upset about questions regarding the door. He would be furious if I started asking him about murder.

I looked down at my hands running over my stomach. My heart ached each time I saw the wedding ring on my finger. It was an awful reminder that I was the reason Clara died. If I could have gotten this damn ring off my finger, she would not have been murdered.

The floor creaked as Miles walked toward me. I did not look up, and my attention was focused on my stomach. Miles came into view when he kneeled in front of me. Shadows flickered across his bare chest. He said nothing, and I listened to him breathing as he watched me. He stayed still for a minute before he grabbed my arm. Joseph stitched the wound closed, and no blood was shadowing through the bandage. I gritted my teeth as a fiery burn ran up my arm while he inspected the bandage.

"Are you confident you're okay?" Miles asked.

I nodded. My arm hurt, but Joseph was able to stop the bleeding.

"You're not going to die?" Miles asked.

It was another one of his blunt questions. A small smile formed on my lips because I enjoyed the tiny sense of normalcy. I shook my head.

"I'm not going to die," I said.

Miles placed his hands on my stomach. The tiny movements started again, but they were stronger this time. A small smile formed on my lips; it was the first time I smiled since the stranger entered our home.

"She starts moving whenever you touch my stomach," I said.

"We're having a daughter?" he asked.

"That's what your Mother predicted."

Miles slid his hands to the sides of my stomach. He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath before pressing his forehead against my belly. I ran my fingers through his hair, which was coated in a mixture of sweat, dirt, and blood.

Miles said nothing as he kept his head against my stomach. The small movements from our baby continued. He let out a few more shaky breaths, and I was unsure if he was trying to stop himself from crying. I had not seen him yet shed a tear over his mother's death. I had never seen him cry about anything before.

We stayed in that position for much longer than I anticipated. I said nothing as I ran my fingers through Miles's hair in an attempt to be comforting. When he got off his knees, he did not speak for the rest of the night.

–

Clara's death felt extra heavy when I was in the kitchen and cooking breakfast. I had grown used to having Clara next to me. No matter how early we woke, she was always so bright and cheery in the morning. Now, I was forced to work in silence.

When Miles came downstairs, he said nothing to me and sat at the dining room table. Dark bags were under his eyes. I had been awake most of the night but did not hear Miles's usual snoring and he frequently changed positions, so I doubted he could sleep. He leaned over the table, and his eyes focused on the floor when Clara had died. Luckily, when I came downstairs, the blood had been cleaned.

Miles remained silent while we ate breakfast. I was unsure what to say to him, so I said nothing.

We were almost finished when Joseph stumbled down the steps. He held onto the banister to keep himself on his feet. His hair was a mess, stubble was spread across his jaw, and the buttons on his shirt were not aligned. He staggered as he walked toward the cabinet and pulled out a half-empty bottle of whiskey. Miles glared as he watched his father pour a glass. When he came closer, the smell of alcohol burned my nose.

I stood to get him breakfast, but Joseph held his hand out to stop me.

"I am not hungry," he said.

"You should have something to eat," I said.

Joseph let out a deep breath as he sat in his chair. He mumbled a few curses under his breath as he ran his fingers through his hair. I hesitated before sitting back down. I wanted to get Joseph food, but I did not want to upset either of them.

The happiness in our family had disappeared. The family I had always dreamed about was disintegrating in front of me.

Would we ever be able to recover?

Who would be the next to hurt us?